I Like You!
by Creecree
Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in a broom cupboard. What else?


**NOTICES** The Harry Potter empire belongs to JK Rowling. This is merely a work of imaginative fiction based on the series. This contains M/M, D/H. Read at own discretion.

**I Like You!**

There was a distinct smell of floor cleaner, the sort of dampness that you found on mops and Draco Malfoy's cologne, which in combination only served to make Harry even more headachy than he already was.

'Potter,'

'I'm ignoring you,'

'Potter, for heaven's sake,'

'I'm ignoring you!'

Harry shrieked the last one, just so, you know, he could get the point across, ignoring Malfoy's infuriated gesture of throwing his arms into the air, like 'There, _see_ God, I'm stuck with this stupid thing...' . Of course, it didn't stop Harry's brain-voice telling him that he was being petulant and pouty and that for all that is good and holy just bloody _talk_ to Malfoy already so that they could possibly get out of this _stupid_ cupboard sooner. Harry _did_ want to get out of the cupboard sooner, really, he did, but for all the maturity that he got from fighting for the Light and all that, he still didn't want to talk to Malfoy because simply, he annoyed him. Its that sodding hair that just fell like that like it was supposed to, and those eyes that made Harry want to box him between the brows. Really now. Malfoy just got under skin like nobody else ever did.

'Potter, listen,'

And he _loved_ doing the whole patronising thing, Harry had gotten a whole lot of it during the War when they were paired together for raids, and here it was again, that voice speaking to him like he was five.

'No Malfoy I won't listen, I'm sick of listening,'

Distantly, Harry noted that his reply was void of any reference to their current situation. As usual, he had gotten off tangent, typically in Malfoy's presence. _Oh congratulations Harry, you can be so proud of yourself,_ he thought sullenly.

'Well. Uh. So lets work on getting out of this cupboard shall we? So you won't have to uh, listen to me anymore,'

Harry could feel the reverberations from where Malfoy's elbow touched his in the too-small cupboard as he tried hard not to laugh at the ridiculous sounding rationale. Harry's sulk deepened as he huffed in response and shuffled about with his arms crossed, his head thinking of painful ways to skin the Hogwarts juniors responsible for the trap. It had been set for a friend presumably, but Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy and a standard mid afternoon scuffle between the two had gotten in the way of their prank. Harry had pushed Malfoy into the cupboard fully intending to lock him inside, but Malfoy being Malfoy, grabbed Harry by the cuffs and dragged him in as well. They were found by the boys, but as soon as they heard who were trapped inside, they had made run for it, wide-eyed and lip biting in fear(the snarlings of one angry Boy Who Totally Lived To Kick Voldemort's Arse and the monotoned death threats of a Malfoy heir could do that to a boy). Harry kicked the door again. It must've been a Weasley jokeshop charm. Those boys couldn't have placed such a strong trick charm that two 18 year old wizards couldn't dismantle.

Harry was interrupted out of his hissy fit with Malfoy's soft mutterings of charm revealing spells, pointing his wand around the cupboard.

'Damn. Typical trapping-'

' -trigger charm?'

'Yeah,'

'Weasleys,' they uttered in unison, Harry's mouth then set in a grim smile meeting Draco's wry one. They both knew what it was, it was basically a charm that traps the person(or persons, as the case may be) inside an enclosed space, releasing them only after the trigger is pulled.

'Oh man, the trigger-'

' -could be anything,'

'Don't finish my sentences,'

'Right, sorry,'

They settled into a defeated silence. Harry shuffled around some more, while Malfoy plonked onto an upturned metal bucket, resting his face on his hand. They could wait for someone to pass by the corridor and yell for them to look for those boys... and with a pang Harry realised they didn't even know how those boys looked like, much less their names. A further realisation dawned on him that Ron and Hermione were worryingly MIA, raising more than one insecure throb in Harry's chest than he would've liked to admit.

'Aren't the Weasel and Granger supposed to be rescuing you right about now? Its been about 2 hours,'

Harry shot him a glare, partly for suspecting him of illicit mind reading and partly for the 'Weasel' call, and turned back to face the door of the cupboard to continue his sulking.

'Okaaay. I guess not,'

Harry turned around to give a suitably biting reply, but was stunned into muteness as he watched Malfoy unbuttoning his shirt.

'Malfoy!'

'What!'

'Wh-where the hell are your robes!'

'On the floor. That squishy thing that you're stepping on? Yeah that's the one,'

Harry lifted his foot off the robe distractedly as he worked out what to say next.

'Why is it on the floor!'

He thought, idly, that he should really stop talking in exclamation marks.

'Uh, its hot? Gah. I'm gonna change into my undershirt. Its too bloody humid,'

Malfoy explained, his voice muffled as he fought with the buttons on his collar and knot of his tie. Harry watched in horror as the shirt was pulled off from the top, the offending buttons being stuck as they were... dragging the undershirt beneath it just a little for a _peek of that pale skin_, and Malfoy's moan of discomfort at the heat the whole time... left his mouth dry and parchy. Malfoy managed to get the shirt off, leaving him in the thin white undershirt and a pair of heavy lidded eyes with a matching lazy smile.

'This is _much_ better,' he stated regally, sighing, and then throwing his shirt down onto the floor. He looked up to where Harry was standing, who was still dry lipped and feeling confused as to why he felt like he wanted to _touch_ Malfoy of all things, and proceeded to upturn the bucket beside him.

'Join me,' he said complacently, patting it, his eyes slightly closed.

Well, the real Harry would have said 'Not bloody likely!' but the new one, the one dumbfounded with the realisation that he might have had a crush on this... man for quite a while, and finding hot waves of lust careening into his head, nodded his head and tripped over a broom handle trying to get to the bucket. Malfoy opened an eye and raised an eyebrow at the mini crash, and Harry's face reddened as he sat. Malfoy let out something that could've been a chuckle and went back to closing his eyes. A moment of quiet descended upon them again. Harry stretched his legs out, feeling awkward and oddly turned on.

'Uh Malfoy,'

'Yes Potter?'

'Are we just gonna sit here- and wait?'

'Got another plan?'

'Not really,'

'Then yes Potter, we are 'gonna sit here' and wait until someone or something comes along to save us,' his fingers obnoxiously doing the quoting and unquoting thing as he inserted Harry's phrase. Harry just bit his bottom lip at that and leaned his head heavily on the side of the cupboard. Almost on cue, they both sighed, before dissolving into reluctant breathless giggles. Harry decided it was better to laugh with Malfoy than be pissy at him. As much as he would like to, he conceded that it has in fact become harder to stay plainly annoyed at Malfoy. The 'annoyed' nowadays came along with something else along the lines of fondness and giggliness that had been the source of Harry's recent added confusion and frustration with the blond. With a mental groan, Harry decided that fate, had once again played him cruelly, as though the one manic Dark Lord wasn't enough, he now had to deal with liking, possibly loving(oh dear _God_!) a certain Draco Malfoy.

Harry's face must have contorted into variations of forehead-creasing and brow-furrowing during his internal monologue, as said Malfoy was now peering at him through the dim light questioningly.

'Potter, what the hell is up with the scrunching,' he said laughingly, before poking the tip of Harry's nose with his wand. Harry frowned even more as he pushed Malfoy's wand away. Or, as he would like to refer to him preferably, _Draco_.

'I just realised something,'

'Oh really?'

'I like you!'

The confession, a weight off his embittered, angsty soul came out as whine. Harry was good at that, misjudging the importance of things. Malfoy kept looking at him with that amused expression, with a glint of something else in his eyes.

'Well,' he started to say, pausing, with that look as though he was calculating something, before _kissing_ Harry on the lips and grasping his wrists to get him up. Harry looked at him, bewildered, his eyes blink-blinking rapidly, wondering why the light seemed funny suddenly... but it all seemed irrelevant because Malfoy couldn't realise it anyway, what with him tonguing inside Harry's mouth with his eyes closed in bliss. A second later, Harry felt himself being shoved onto the wall of the cupboard, the same pair of lips now attached to his neck. Mal-_DRACO_. Kissing. Licking. His _neck_. Oh it was- Harry felt his eyes closing, the delicious wetness of Draco's tongue over his collarbone, his teeth nipping the thin skin, the mouth sometimes coming up for air to whisper _finally, finally_ and _thank bloody Merlin_... it was all very frantic and rushed and exactly what Harry expected of Draco, that underlying alive-ness behind his blase facade. Harry groaned into the top of Draco's head before opening his eyes, wanting to see exactly where his hands were going, what they were touching...

Oh. The light. Sunlight. The cupboard. Open. _People_. Open. Draco-

'_Draco_!'

Harry managed to gasp out, while Draco all but moaned into Harry's open shirt. Desperately, before- _oh Draco's teeth on his nipp_- it went any further, he grabbed Draco by the back of his t shirt and spun him around. Harry moved to hide behind Draco, his face, he imagined to be blushing so red it would be oh-so-very-embarrassing, and Draco's state of half-dress, his sweat-sheened face and arms and his look of utter and total shock. Harry could vaguely make out Hermione's frizzy hair and Ron's gaping mouth as he peered over Draco's shoulder through his smudgy glasses. Professor Filtwick's eyes goggling in their general direction. The portrait of the crazy knight on the opposite wall of the corridor with sword in mid-attack, face aghast. Seconds pass. Deafening silence engulfed the corridor.

A moment later, a boy, which Harry and Draco later found out to be the original deviant behind the prank, stepped out from the frozen tableau of students and professors and portraits.

'The trig-trigger was a k-kiss,'

_Wouldn't you know it_, Harry thought dryly.

'Uh. Yeah. We-we got that all figured out, thanks,'


End file.
